Chapter 19 #5
Throwing her head back, Grier broke their eye contact, her hands finding her own breasts, kneading and pinching them, coaxing her orgasm closer. She rocked against Tobin’s mouth, desperate for release.
Tobin pointed her tongue, flicking Grier’s clit before wrapping her lips around it, sucking her into the heat of her mouth. She felt Grier’s walls contract tighter around the fingers still steadily pumping inside her.
“Y—Yes!” Grier encouraged.
Tobin could feel the tremors of Grier’s pleasure pulse against her lips—echoing into her own throbbing clit. She released the delicate tissue from her lips and whispered, “That’s it, Grier. Let me help you come undone.”
Then she flattened her tongue and dragged it between Grier’s folds until her clit rested at the center.
She cupped her lips around the swollen bundle and pressed firmly, vibrating her tongue against Grier’s most sensitive territory.
A low, carnal hum thrummed from Tobin’s throat, instinctive and ravenous.
It didn’t matter—Grier’s response to the added stimulation only intensified her pleasure.
“Oh! Oh, my!” Grier stuttered above her.
“D–d–d–don’t stop!” There wasn’t a dimension in any universe where Tobin could possibly stop.
She would rather suffocate in this position than willingly pause her ministrations—thriving on Grier’s thrashing, her stutters, the way her body moved under her touch.
She wanted to thrust and suck every faculty from Grier’s beautiful brain, her only remaining capacity being the ability to call out Tobin’s name. It was so fucking intoxicating.
Tobin felt Grier’s walls shiver around her fingers and heard her exhale one final, surrendering breath—whispering a faint, devastating, “Tobin,” like a desperate prayer.
Then Grier succumbed fully, exploding around Tobin, waves of pleasure wracking her body as she jerked and clenched around Tobin’s tongue and fingers.
Tobin continued to lick and pump, gradually easing her movements as Grier’s body settled into the comforter again.
After her body stilled, Tobin slowly withdrew her fingers, drew her tongue back into her mouth, and lightly kissed the folds over Grier’s clit. Then she crawled up the mattress, resting her head in one hand while using the other to stroke the hair from Grier’s sweat- streaked face.
Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Grier in the aftermath of ecstasy. Her fantasies over the last several weeks had been detailed, explicit—and thoroughly wholesome compared to the vision before her. Reality laid waste to the fantasies of Grier: debauched and unrestrained—replete.
Minutes passed as Tobin watched in awe, seeing Grier’s body recover from her climax.
Her own clit throbbed with need, but she resisted, restraining the urge to satisfy herself—unsure why, exactly, but somehow afraid of disappointing Grier.
She’d never cared what past partners thought when she hadn’t wanted reciprocation.
But, as was becoming the new norm, Grier was different.
And she deeply wanted to learn all the ways she could be different with her.
Grier’s eyes fluttered open. Her pupils oscillated in ever- shrinking circles as her clarity returned, and an expansive smile stretched across her face when she found Tobin’s eyes.
Tobin cocked a playful, inquisitive eyebrow as the mattress trembled with Grier’s silent laughter.
Within seconds, she was erupting with sounds of joy—arms flung wide—forming silent words, her mouth opening and closing before she finally released a simple, breathy, “Wow!”
Tobin hummed in agreement.
“You… um. Just—wow!” Grier’s cheeks flushed with her inability to formulate words. Tobin found it adorable and leaned down for a kiss, effectively halting Grier’s ramblings and sparing her any further, entirely unnecessary embarrassment.
Tobin felt Grier’s hands tangle in her hair and trace along her cheeks as she deepened the kiss.
Grier’s fingers danced along her throat and traced the lines of her collarbone, slinking lazily south along her sternum.
It tickled—and somehow aroused her at the same time—making her stomach flutter, which Grier immediately sensed.
Grier broke their kiss, her fingers still dancing across Tobin’s sternum, now tracing the lines of ink around her left breast and collarbone—first with her fingers, then with her eyes.
Tobin shuddered. Both wanting and fearing the unspoken question in Grier’s gaze: the unavoidable request to lay down her guard and allow
Grier to reciprocate.
She craved Grier’s attention, but her insecurities hovered in the periphery, lurking. The muscles of her stomach tightened, guarding against intangible fears. She didn’t realize Grier had paused her stroking until she felt a gentle squeeze on her forearm, calling her back to the present.
Grier’s hand found her face, gently caressing her cheek. “Tobin, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into Grier’s warm palm, finding comfort in her touch.
It was never about not wanting. It was about the visceral terror she felt at the idea of allowing someone that much control over her.
It was the incomprehensibility of letting go—of being vulnerable beneath someone’s touch—and trusting they wouldn’t hurt her.
That they would stay. That she was done breaking.
It was in the torrent of internal monologues that incessantly beat against the walls of her skull. The ones that told her she was broken. That she was unworthy. That she was, quantitatively, less than.
Where Grier was a giant fucking ampersand of more, Tobin was mathematically less in every conceivable way.
Grier shifted into her then, pressing her back to Tobin’s chest and wrapping Tobin’s arms around her like a human blanket.
Like she was the one who needed comfort.
And Tobin knew—it was deliberate. Grier was removing their confrontational posture.
Removing the eye contact. Granting Tobin space. Granting her safety.
“Tell me what you’re thinking?” It was a question.
She felt Grier gently stroke her arms—the ones she was currently wrapped in. It comforted her. It excited her. She inhaled Grier’s scent, mingled with the heady trace of sex that lingered between them, and focused on lowering her heart rate—which she knew Grier could feel pounding against her back.
“I’m afraid to want you as much as I do.”
The words were out before she could register them. Grier didn’t speak—just kept stroking her arms, soothing her, waiting.
“I…” She started, then stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’ve been numb for a long time. I don’t think I even truly understood the depths of it until I started feeling again. Until you made me start feeling. You make me want to feel again.”
Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. She needed Grier to know—needed her to understand what was going on inside her.
“You make me want so many things. Things I never thought I’d want again. And I want to keep wanting. I want to keep healing, and growing. And—I—I want everything.”
“You deserve everything, Tobin.”
Grier’s voice was calm, grounding. Her fingers never stopped moving.
“You deserve to feel everything. You deserve so much more than what you’ve allowed yourself to believe you deserve. Because it simply isn’t true. And your brain deserves a break from the wreckage of your past. You deserve to feel pleasure—to compensate for the pain you’ve been living in for years.
“You deserve to find yourself, now, as you are today—and lose yourself in all the things that bring you happiness and give you pleasure. And then find yourself again afterward, in an ever-repeating cycle of growth and change.
“We are not intended to be stagnant, Tobin. Our lives are messy, and complicated—and so, intensely beautiful, if you can look through the haze of your trials and recognize the chaos for the tiny blips that they are on the overarching journey. A journey that holds just as much opportunity for happiness as it does for sadness. It’s what we choose to do with our lives after the chaos—amidst it—that turns those events into blips on the radar…
or defines them as themes of our lives.”
Tobin lay there in silence, letting Grier’s monologue wash over her. She dissected it word by word, trying fervently to accept them. She felt broken—yes—but everything Grier had said tonight was reverberating through her mind like a pong ball, bouncing against the walls and breaking them down.
She felt broken, but she also felt inspired. She felt… vulnerable. And for the first time in as long as she could remember, it didn’t terrify her.
“I want you to help me lose myself.”
It was a whisper. She wasn’t even sure she said it—until she felt Grier’s hand shift to the back of her head, gently pulling her down, and Grier turning her face to align their lips.
They lay there—naked, kissing, stroking—Tobin feeling some of the tension drain from her body as Grier rotated in her arms to press their bodies together again.
Grier’s thigh slipped between her legs, and Tobin gasped softy as Grier’s leg settled into her center— granting her time and patience she still didn’t feel she deserved.
Grier stroked her exposed ribs and teased the outside of her breast before tucking her head into Tobin’s neck, dragging her open mouth along her collarbones. Then, in a quiet, deliberate murmur, she asked: “How do you pleasure yourself?”
Tobin didn’t even think before answering. Grier’s roaming mouth distracted her just enough to allow the truth to slip out unfiltered.
“My hands. To start.”
Grier’s hands wandered gently over the curves of her ass, her stomach, the outside of her breasts. They were confident but reverent—respectful in a way that made Tobin acutely aware that Grier was reading her body’s responses, gauging what she liked, how she reacted—what she wanted.